Sorciere and the City
by Mrs.HarryPotter12
Summary: Ginny Weasley in an up and coming magazine columnist. She has everything she could want...except for a cheating fiancé (Herman) and now Harry's back in her life. One area of her life where her sassy humor won't help. (idea from a certin show on HBO)
1. Chapter 1

Hey fans! Here it is FINALLY! We can't tell you how much we've struggled with this chapter. We hope you enjoy and as always…review! The format will be similar to pgge and with a lot of humor. So if you liked pgge you'll like this. Just take note of the rating b/c there deff. Will be some mild sexual stuff and swearing.

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Lain and missie

11 August 2006

Journal,

In a (pathetic) attempt come to terms with my unresolved anger issues (my  
wonderful therapist's words, not mine. My anger doesn't seem to bother me,  
I didn't even know I had problems until I caught Mr.  
I-shat-my-knickers-because-I'm-cheating-on-you-and-you-caught-me-in-the-act-and-tried-to-murder-me-not-to-mention-what-those-brothers-of-yours-will-do-when-they-find-out  
cheating on me with my so-called best friend and I tried to kill them.  
Honest, I've never had a problem until now.) Dr. Holier-than-Thou is  
requiring I keep a diary of everything that makes me angry. I'll start with  
my list of current anger issues I've been keeping bottled up for the safety  
of the world and all it's wonderful therapists and other nut job doctors.  
The list is as follows:

1. Therapy  
2. Dr. 'Holier-than-thou' Victors  
3. Garbage disposals  
4. Turning 25  
5. Ron (somehow, everything can be traced back to him)  
6. Herman Boulderstaff (AKA- Mr.  
I-shat-my-knickers-because-I'm-cheating-on-you-and-you-caught-me-in-the-act-and-tried-to-murder-me-not-to-mention-what-those-brothers-of-yours-will-do-when-they-find-out)  
and Alyssa Miterstone (AKA- the so-called best friend)  
7. Victorie Gaines, my new boss, and all my other clueless co-workers  
8. Cats that enjoy leaving 'presents' in my brand new shoes  
9. Lavender and Pavarti for planning my wonderful 25th birthday party  
10. Harry-bloody-Potter and his insistence to come home today

Damn my luck.

So, after I chased the above mentioned best friend out of my flat with the  
wide end of a broomstick, I cornered Mr.  
'I-shat-my-knickers-because-I'm-cheating-on-you-and-you-caught-me-in-the-act-and-tried-to-murder-me-not-to-mention-what-those-brothers-of-yours-will-do-when-they-find-out'  
in the kitchen. His look of fear was replaced with relief when I threw the  
broom down, but the look quickly re-graced his features when I pulled the  
mop and a 15 millimeter (unsharpened, in my own defense) butcher knife out  
of the closet and silverware drawer.

The conversation between us went as follows:

Herman: Gin, what are you going to do with that? (referring to the knife,  
I'm assuming)  
Me: Don't call me Gin, you lost that right when you decided to shag Alyssa.  
Herman: We weren't shagging, per se…  
Me: Let me guess, she fell on you and somehow during the fall your clothes  
magically popped off leaving you both in the nude and in a very compromising  
position that your fiancée just happened to walk in on and automatically  
assume the worst because she is an over assuming bitch. That's what really  
happened, isn't it? (Note the sarcasm)  
Herman: Uh, something along the lines of that?  
Me: Well, I hate to say this, but this particular over assuming bitch has a  
knife, a mop and you in a corner. Do you really want to doubt my intentions  
at a time like this?

I swung the mop over my head and he flinched, backing away from me and right  
up against the counter. I smiled and threw the mop down. It was so bloody brilliant! Herman, a 5'9 balding man with what muggles call 'pocket protectors,' was cowering in the corner. He was naked and then I come charging at him with a mop and almost karate chop him!

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck me. Herman would rather die  
than lose money, that much I knew of him. So, in reality, killing him would  
be a favor because he wouldn't have to see his money go down the drain. I  
wanted to make him suffer. So, I popped the 35 galleon diamond engagement  
ring off my hand and dangled it above the sink.

Herman: You wouldn't.  
Me: Try me.  
Herman: Do you know how much that cost me?  
Me: Yeah, a lifetime with me. You can always buy another at a pawn shop for  
Alyssa.  
Herman: I went to the finest jeweler in England for that ring!  
Me: Thanks love.

And with that, I dropped it down the sink. He lunged forward, intent on  
snatching it out of the drain, but fortunately, I flipped on the garbage  
disposal before he could. Unfortunately, the ring came flying out of the  
disposal with such intensity, when it hit me in the forehead, it left the  
diamond's impression in my forehead. I swore, he swore, and for a moment I  
remembered why I liked him. His language was almost as dirty as mine.  
Almost. But then I remembered what he had done to me. I grabbed his arm  
and pushed him out the door.

Did I mention he had no clothes on? Poetic justice if you ask me, since  
most of his clothes were safely stored away in my closet which was inside  
the cozy flat I had just locked him out of …

So, while I was bandaging my war wound, he was running around the hall  
attempting to hide his nakedness. A neighbor called the police, and when he  
was taken in, he reported me for attempting to kill him. When the police  
came to talk to me, I told him he wasn't worth the effort it took to hit him  
with a mop, let alone kill him. I, however, was required to take the  
therapy, while he had to stay a night in jail for 'public indecency'. I  
think I got the sour end of the deal.

Therapy is hell. Today, she asked me three questions:  
1. What was your childhood like?  
2. What was your relationship with Herman like?  
3. Why do you think you're so angry?

Answer to question 1: I had a normal, happy childhood thank you very much.  
Spare Fred and George's multiple experiments on me, the possession  
incident in my second year, multiple (obsessive) crushes on one Mr. Potter, a bout with bat boogey hexes, Voldemort's down fall in my 6th year, and a nut job for a father. All considering, I'd say it was fairly normal.

Answer to question 2: Herman was Muggle born, explaining all the strange  
Muggle inventions in my flat (examples: blender, food processor, television,  
felly tone, etc. I'm getting rid of them now, they make funny noises and  
scare me.) He had a money fetish, like he couldn't live without it. His  
job kept him with ungodly hours, and he often bragged about how he had  
'worked his way to the top'. Looking back, I don't know what I saw in him,  
and I honestly think I was impaired when I accepted that damned ring.

Answer to question 3: Isn't her job to tell me why I'm angry and not the  
other way around? I mean, goodness! I'm not paying her 50 galleons an hour  
to have me decipher what goes on in my mind. I could save that money, stay  
home and read magazines and achieve the same results, don't you think?

But anyway, another person that's bothering me is Rita Skeeter. Her article is as follows:

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_**New Kid on the Block**_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_The newest magazine for young witches, _Sorciere, _is expected to make its debut next week. Star columnists are featured, Blair Malone, formerly of New York City's _GlamWitch_, Natacha Savels, formerly of Paris's _La Magie par Semaine_, Roma d'Mario, formerly of Milan's _Strega di Moda _and our very own Ginevra Weasley, formerly of _Teen Witch Weekly_. The magazine's sales are expected to surpass the ratings of all popular witch magazines by at least thirty percent._

_Victorie Gaines, the magazine's owner and one of the wizarding world's most successful female business women, states, "I'm thrilled to have such an experienced staff with such great reputations. (Blair) Malone is the (magazine's) current makeup guru, (Natacha) Savels in the (magazine's) fashion consultant, Roma is the current hair stylist and Nevvi (Weasley) is my 'hot spots' girl. I think our first issue is going to be absolutely ah-maz-ing." Gaines began the business as a small magazine, catering to the tastes of mature witches in just England, but now she wants to expand to the younger generation around the world._

_The only columnist I was able to interview was Ms. D' Mario, who told me this, "The staff could not have been chosen better. Blair, Natacha and Nevvi are so easy to work with and since we're all of the same age, we have similar tastes when it comes to fashion. We also have the same goal: to bridge the gap between our generation and our mother's generation. We wish to help them discover their natural beauty with our guidance."_

_The most interesting thing was Ginevra 'Nevvi' Weasley refused to comment. A born English witch, Weasley wasn't even supposed to be considered for the new magazine, but by some stroke of luck, she has found herself in the midst of what could be the biggest thing to hit the female fashion world since Muggle tights. Witches of our time, brace yourselves for a fashion revolution._

* * *

The truth is, Victorie Gaines is one of my best mates' cousins. Blaise Zabini, despite the fact he was in Slytherin and a total arse to me when we were in school, does more things with me than most of my girlfriends do. He actually enjoys going shopping, getting our nails and hair done and loves helping me scout out new places to write about. I think he's gay, but he hasn't officially 'come out' yet. We met at _Teen Witch Weekly _(he was an editor there, now he works with me) and he apologized for the hell he put me through in my fifth year and we became good friends. He introduced me to Victorie a couple months ago and after she read some of my columns, she offered me a job at _Sorciere_, which I accepted happily. _Teen Witch Weekly_ was getting a bit blasé for my tastes.

I've already met my co-workers, Roma, Natacha and Blair last weekend at a pre-premier party at Victorie's flat. All of them, Roma, Natacha, Blair and Victorie are total air-heads. Their vobabulary includes 7 words 3 of which are "Like" "God" and "Totally." They're the reincarnation of valley girls meet muggle Barbie's with a British accent. It's insanely odd. But anyway, the thing that Rita forgets for mention is that I'm also going to not only be covering hotspots but a humor column about wacky muggles. It should be very funny.

Right now though, I'm getting ready to go to a party. More specifically mine. Oh joy. Parvati and Lav are going to be here any minute. I'll write more later. I'm wearing a black Versace dress. Compliments of the club, "On." It's a black and white party. And get this. Harry's going to be there…

Much Love,

Ginny

Top 10 bad things about being 25  
1. Only 5 years till 30  
2. Only 15 years till 40!  
3. You have a quarter of a centaury of wrinkles built up  
4. You have to start lying about your age  
5. Half of your friends are married  
6. the other half have kids, married or unmarried  
7. You keep asking if your but looks fat but you should be asking if your boobs are saggy  
8. It's not really like it is in the movies  
9. You can't have sleepovers anymore  
10. You can't call your significant other a boyfriend because he has more chest hair than your father.

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REVIEW! 


	2. Chapter 2

Ugh finally updating! WE FOUND OUR MUSE! lol anyway you know what to do. Read and review...

-lain and missie

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To Whom It May Concern: (aka, the anger suppressing journal of mine)

I think Lavender and Pavarti have done a fabulous job of completely butchering my looks. I was informed by my dear gay friend Blaise that I was going to be the only one wearing black, everyone else was to be wearing white, which explained his too tight, fresh off the village people's wagon white jeans and matching white leather jacket. He even frosted the tips of his black hair (excuse me, 'dark espresso brown'. Blaise doesn't like it when people call it black) white. And they say I have issues, Dr. Holier-Than-Thou would have a field day with him.

So, after Lavender and Pavarti stuffed me into my dress (damn my mother's genes! Why couldn't I inherit Dad's mother's breast size instead of the 32D's Mum so graciously bestowed upon me? No one else has giant boobs with a mind of their own. If they pop out of this…) and tamed the untamable mess I call hair (the thing has a mind of it's own. I think it even bit Pavarti when she sprayed it with water) I was looking pretty good. The dress accents the finer things about my figure, the curves not the boobs. The back of the skirt, however, poses a hazard to my health. If one of my stilettos feels the need to make contact with the longer part of the skirt, I could find myself hurling towards the punch bowl. Again. (Think Christmas, two years ago…)

So, while Blaise was rambling about the quote 'fox' end quote he'd seen in Madame Malkins this morning, Lavender and Pavarti insisted on waxing my legs. The Muggle way, mind you.

I think that may be worse than giving birth. At least when you give birth you can have potions given to you that dull the pain of expelling a watermelon sized thing out of your body, but with waxing…

First, they applied hot (and I mean BURNING) sticky shit (or at least that's what it smells like) that sticks to your skin in the most uncomfortable way. Then, they put paper on the sticky stuff, say a few words about how brave you are for doing this (I wish) and rip it off. Of course, both of them laughed when I started swearing and kicking, before slathering the rest of the shit on my legs and ripping it off.

Lavender: Come on Ginny, no one ever said beauty was easy.

Pavarti: Yeah, no pain no gain.

Me: Shut it.

Lavender: At least pretend to be grateful, you are going to be the light of the party.

Me: The darkness, I'm in all black remember?

They just don't understand my witty sense of humor.

Love, the girl who can't believe she's saying love to an inanimate object that has no advice to give her in the case of one Mr. Harry-bloody-Potter's return to England,

Ginny/Nevvi Weasley

PS If I don't live this down, I'm putting a spell on this journal thing to burn anyone who tries to open it after I die. That is, when I find the spell…

PPS Kill me now.

PPPS Wait, kill me after I see Harry.

PPPPS Never mind, I think I'm losing it.

PPPPPS Kill me now.

'Too many Ps to write' S And now I have

* * *

Journal,

I'm in the loo right now…God my life is over! This is what's happened so far…

So there I was. Not only was I twenty-four, dolled up in Versace ( a black number that I got for the occasion,) but Harry Potter was at my party. Harry-I-left-the-country-never-to-reture-except-on-nationally-observed-holidays-Potter. My birthday is not a nationally observed holiday. Anyways…I walked into the club in the magical Mecca, London, and I see…MY SHRINK! BLOODY HELL! So I march up to Dr. "Holier-than-thou" Victors and ask:

Me: Who the bloody hell invited you?

Then Blaise appeared at his shoulder.

Blaise: Here Vicky I got you a drink.

Me: Blaise!

And then I fainted.

I

Bloody

Fainted!

AT MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY!

So I started to come to and the first thing I see is Harry-I-left-the-country-never-to-reture-except-on-nationally-observed-holidays-Potter. Goodlord. Harry and his bloody hero complex.

Me: groan.

Harry, laughing: Are you okay?

Me: Please tell me Blaise isn't flirting with my shrink. I don't think I can handle it. Lie to me.

Harry: No actually Dean is.

Me: What?

Harry: Actually they're just talking…I think?

Me: Oh god…

Blaise: You okay firecrotch?

Me: Blaise I said to NEVER call me that again.

Harry: fire-what?

Me: Never mind

Blaise: Anyway you m'kay?

Me: Yeah sure

Harry helped me sit up. Then the blond brigade, as I dubbed them, rushed over.

Blair: Ohmygosh Nevvie! Are you okay hun?

Natacha: We were 'ow you say 'orried?

Roma: Like totally.

I groaned hoping they wouldn't realize who Harry was or ask. I was wrong.

Blair: Who's your hero, Nevvie?

Harry looked up and they saw his scar.

There was a chorus of "like ohmygosh!"

Blair: You're like Harry Potter!

Natacha: Why didn't you tell us you're dating Harry Potter?

Me: I'm not!

Harry: She isn't!

Blaise: I am!

Blair, Natacha, Roma, Harry, Me: WHAT!

Then Blasie sat on Harry's lap. I almost passed out again.

Me and Harry: BLAISE!

Me: Blasie I need to talk to you in the little girls room right now.

He hopped off Harry's lap like a little yappy dog and followed me away from Harry.

When we we were safely out of earshot I started yelling.

Me: BLAISE WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

Blasie: Well he is very attractive!

Me: He's not gay!

Blaise: Well according to the Prophet he is.

Me: What?

Blaise handed me a copy of the paper with a picture of Blaise on Harry's lap on the front cover.

Me: When did you get this?

Blaise: Just now.

Me: but that just happened!

Blaise: Well they do promise fast service!

Then I stormed away but before I could find Harry to apologize to him I ran into Dr. "holier-than-thou" Victors.

Dr: Ginny!

Me: Oh damn

Dr: Mr. Thomas has just informed me of some interesting things!

Me: really?

Dr: Did you really cast a bat-bogey hex on Mr. Malfoy?

Me: YES AND HE BLOODY DESERVED IT! NOW PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!

When I finished yelling the whole party was staring at me and I felt like belting out a chorus of "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

Then I stormed out. I just left. But not before Roma spilled her drink all over my couture.

Much Love,

Ginny

Top Ten Bad Things About Birthday Parties

1. They celebrate getting older, fun when you're eight…

2. Everyone thinks they're invited and that their invite just got lost in the owls.

3. You can't serve liquor because there are you're 7th cousins there that are underage.

4. Gives your friends a few hours to squeeze in as much embarrassment as they can.

5. Your dress always ends up ruined.

6. You have to wax your legs…even if you're single.

7. You could have a heart attack from the high tension from your mother and great aunt twice removed in the same room.

8. You have to eat birthday cake…in a 500 galleon dress.

9. You have to help clean up.

10. It's just a bloody pain in the arse!

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REVIEW! 


	3. Chapter 3

Ah another chapter...Review please?

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Journal,

So, after my disastrous birthday party, Dr "I-think-you're-bleeding-mental" caught up with me outside.

Dr: Ginny, I chatted with some of your brothers…

Is that what you call digging up my past to blackmail me in our therapy sessions from hell with? I thought it was called offer them liquor and they'll spill everything they knew about me. And if you get them really drunk they might take you home and show you the shrine I made to Harry when I was four and they preserved to forever embarrass me.

Me: Don't believe a thing they say. They lie.

Dr: Actually I found our chats enlightening.

Me: Kiss my as-- (then I remembered that's considered 'angry words') ascot.

Dr: Excuse me?

Me: Nothing.

Dr, looking at me in a really funny way: I was thinking maybe tomorrow they could join us.

Me: What?

Dr: I invited each one of them to come and spend the session with us so I could get to know your home life better.

Me: So you believe me!

I shouted that and everyone who was passing by stopped and stared. I glared at them and life went back to normal.

Dr: Excuse me?

Me: You believe that my family needs the therapy more than I do!

Dr: I didn't say that…

She went into some long lecture about how everyone could benefit from therapy, blah, blah, blah and halfway through I snuck off. And just my luck guess who I ran into.

Harry-I-left-the-country-never-to-return-except-on-nationally-observed-holidays-or-if-the-world-is-ending-Potter.

Harry: You left.

No dip dipshit.

Me: Yeah, it got a little, um… uncomfortable?

Harry: Tell me about it. Blaise sat on me again and started this story about how we were going to a spa up in Manchester for a weekend of drinking and sex.

Me: Ouch.

Harry: Yeah, he's not the lightest gay man I've ever met.

Me: Okay…

There's where the awkward silence set in. After a few long moments, me: Well, I'll see you around, I guess.

Harry nodded. Him: Where's your shrink's office? She invited me too.

Me: Bloody hell.

Harry: What?

Me: No way in bloody hell. She's out to ruin me…

Harry: What?

I was too shocked that my shrink would ask Harry-bleeding-Potter, the obsession of my life, sex god to me since I began thinking about sex, to a therapy session. Oh, this is war.

Harry: What did I say?

I ignored him.

Much Love,

Ginny

Journal,

They were all there! Every bleeding one of my freaking brothers. It looked like a fucking Weasley family reunion. Well we were all there waiting for Bill who's always late and maybe his wife Fleur.

Dr.: SO you're all Ginny's brothers! I'm so pleased to meet you!

Ugh put on a happy face much?

Dr.: Now I believe Ron's closest to Ginny's age, right?

Ron nodded.

Dr.: Now when do you think Ginny's anger issues started.

I groaned knowing where he would go with this.

Ron: Well it was a sweltering day and Mum had just bought a new box of popscicles. Well Ginny only eats the red ones. It was near noon when she went down to get one but someone had eaten all the red popsicles. She was so mad. She went throught the house looking for wrappers but never found out that it was Charlie.

Me: CHARLIE? You ate my RED POPSICLES?

Charlie gulped.

Dr.: Ginny calm yourself!

Dr.: Well no one ate your red popsicles!

Then she asked Fred and George if they remembered any traumatic events.

Fred: well there was this one time-

George: When Ginny became..you know-

Fred: a woman.

George: I guess Mum forgot-

Fred: that Ginny wasn't a boy-

George: because they never really had-

Fred: the talk.

George: Well she went around screaming-

Fred: that she was dying-

George: before Mrs. Nextdoor found her-

Fred: writing her will-

George: in her flower garden.

Fred: It was very traumatic-

George: for all of us.

Fred: because then Mum showed her this thing-

George: it looked like a mouse-

Fred: it had a tail and all-

George: and Mum whispered something in her ear-

Fred: then she screamed.

George: Ypu'd think with so many brothers-

Fred: she'd scream like a man.

I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.

Then they continued. Let's just say puberty was a bad time for me.

Dr.: Is there anything else you'd like to add?

Fred nodded.

George: There was this one time-

Fred: Mum took her shopping-

George: for…bras.

Threre was a giggle from the men (cough) in the room.

Fred: Mum took her to Victoria's secrect.

George: She started crying as soon as-

Fred: She saw all the black lacy garments.

George: She thought she was going to have-

Fred: wear them.

George: Fred explained that you only wear them on-

Fred: you're honeymoon.

George: Which led to us explaining what-

Fred: sex is.

George: Of course we thought it was-

Fred: hugging naked.

George: Anyway…

Fred: The sales woman took Ginny-

George: back to a dressing room-

Fred: to measure her.

George: Then like ten minutes later-

Fred: we hear a scream and beating-

George: on the door.

Fred: Then Ginny ran out-

George: claiming the woman-

Fred: molested her.

George: needless to say-

Fred: Mum didn't have that talk-

George: with her either.

Just as I was about to hex the twins there was a knock on the door. Bill walked in.

Bill: Hey sorry I'm late everyone. Oh this beautiful lady must be your Doctor.

He had a cold or something because his voice was all weird.

Dr.: I know who you must be! Please sit down.

Bill sat down and started making eyes at Doctor-holier-than thou.

Percy spoke this time.

Percy: Once…she dishonored the family by being so bad at school that the Headmaster had to write home about her.

We ignored him.

Then Fred and George were off again.

Fred: Once our friend-

George: Lee was over.

Fred: And he was telling us-

George: About "weaving."

Fred: Well Ginny walked in-

George: And was like-

Fred: "I didn't know you could weave."

George: Well the funny thing is-

Fred: That in Lee's house-

George: weaving is the code for-

Fred: Having sex.

Me: You NEVER told me it stood for that!

George: Well at least you didn't ask him-

Fred: to teach you to "weave."

Everyone laughed exept me and then Bill spoke.

Bill: Doctor…Would you like to get a drink sometime?

Dr.: I'm sorry but I'm not a lesbin.

SHE THOUGHT BILL WAS A WOMAN! Oh too funny. He'll never beable to live that down. Fred and George have taken to calling him Mrs. Bill Weasley.

Bill stood up and quickly left. The rest of my brothers followed behind laughing. Then the shrink spoke.

Dr.: I think you're brothers have to be the most horrid people I have ever met.

Harry: They're really not that bad. Just don't take any food or drink from them. Ever. Neville's still molting.

I laughed and Harry and I left.

Love the eternally embarassed,

Ginny

* * *

Review please! Check out our xanga too. Link's in our profile

-lain and missie


	4. Chapter 4

Sry it's taken sooooo long! School's hectic...and dramatic. But please review as always...

-lain and missie

* * *

Journal,

So, today, I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own damn business when I was viciously attacked by my boss.

Vickie (as she INSISTS we call her): Oh Nevvi!

She throws her arms around my neck and kisses each of my cheeks. Mind you, she's practically laying on my desk, and she reeks of the most expensive perfume in in the world. My papers still radiate _A essência de da Cor da alfazema_, which is just a fancy way of saying, 'I just sold the soul of my first born child for a perfume that smells like ass'.

Me: Victor- I mean, Vickie, how pleasant it is to see you. Is that a new perfume?

That's right. I, Ginny 'Nevvi' Molly Weasley, am an ass kisser to the highest degree.

Vickie, obviously pleased: Why, yes. It's a new scent our Portuguese branch, _A Feiticeira Esperta,_ wanted me to try. I have another bottle if you want some.

Me: No thanks. I'll just settle for plain old Lover's Mist from Victoria's Secret.

Vickie: Victoria's what?

Me: Nothing.

Vickie: Anyway, I wanted to give you tonight's assignment. (She laid a few files on my desk) It's an American retro-seventies club, and my source said it's to _die_ for. Your first article will be on this club, Psychedelic. This papers will tell you everything you need to know, and I got you four tickets for tonight.

Me: Okay, thanks…

After she and her horrid perfume left me alone, I flipped through the files. It's a club that requires 'proper dress', whatever the hell that means. Goodness, I don't know what the seventies clothes styles were like in England, let alone across the pond. And what in Merlin's name is the difference between bootlegged pants and bellbottoms? And why would I want them in white? The last time I wore white pants was, well, during puberty and we've already established that was a bad time for me…

---

Later

The outside looked like any normal club, but the minute we got inside we were surrounded by incense smoke and neon colored lights. Brightly colored bean bag chairs were strewn around in clumps, forming conversation corners, each complete with a low coffee table. The DJ was blaring old 'hippie' music, and the bar was a giant, sliver peace sign.

Lavender bought the first round of drinks, pink cosmos, and we sat in one of the little conversation corners.

Lav: At least they make a good cosmo.

Me: Why must you always match?

She was wearing a hot pink go-go dress with huge, white polka dots, pink platform boots and pink fishnets. Remind me to never ask her where she shops… Then again, I didn't look that great in my white bellbottom/bootleg pants and a bright orange peasant top. Did I mention orange clothes and red hair clash? Very, very horribly, might I add.

Lav: It's an anal retentive quality.

Me: You are anal. And I bet you couldn't spell that to save your life.

She stabbed me with the toothpick from her drink and scowled, but I didn't care. Alcohol, pissy friends, roaring club, nothing could make this any better. Until they announced it was happy hour.

Someone up there loves me.

I recounted the oh-too-embarrassing story of my brothers and the shrink's office to them, and Hermione laughed so hard, her drink came out her nose.

Me: Hermione! That's revolting!

Lav, mockingly: You are revolting. And I bet you couldn't spell that to save your life.

Dr Holier than thou would have been proud. Instead of stooping to her level and stabbing her with a toothpick, I stood and walked away. Actually, it was more of a run because I threw my alcohol laden cherry at her. But her whole outfit was pink so it wasn't like anyone would notice a bit of a pink stain anyway.

So, while running as fast as my six inch platform boots would allow, I bumped (more like slammed) into someone.

She introduced herself as Daffodil. I recognized her as one of the barmaids up front, and when I asked her if she worked there, she said yes. We chatted for a bit, before someone called her name. She pushed a piece of paper into my hand and we parted ways.

_**Women's Retreat**_

_**Sponsored by Psychedelic, Burrow & Associates OB/GYN and Stila Inc.**_

_Where: Landow Park_

_When: August 29_

_Why: To celebrate the wonders of being a woman_

_Make sure to bring: Camping supplies, hiking gear, sleeping bag_

_Invite everyone you know!_

'_The wonders of being a woman'_. Yeah, sure.

Love, the woman who convinced her friends to go on a retreat celebrating monthly visitors, bra shopping and the obsessive urge to eat chocolate all the time,

Ginny

---

Journal,

Lavender just did the worst thing ever.

So we're in a store buying a sleeping bag (which why couldn't we take a quilt? Or even better, stay in a hotel! I mean, I'm all for nature, but there's a difference between liking something and being obsessed. I think this had crossed the line) when Lavender becomes convinced there is something on her butt.

Lav: Ginny, is there anything on my butt?

She sticks it out and looks back at me expectantly.

Me: No.

Lav: You didn't even look!

Me: I am not checking you out. I'm straight and there isn't anything on your butt.

She sticks it out further and pouts. I sigh, and against my better judgment, I look down. Lavender's butt is so much smaller than mine. I bet it would fit into those new pants I just bought even though there's no hope of me fitting into them…

So while I'm staring at her butt, someone comes up and sees us.

Merlin knows that person just happens to be Harry.

I look up and there's Harry staring at us. He seemed to be frozen in shock, but before I could explain, Lavender puts her arm around me.

Lav: Do you have a problem with us?

He stumbled back and Lavender led me out of the store.

Me: Lavender! What the hell?

Lav: Please, every man's fantasy is girl on girl. If he thinks his leaving made you come to me, think of how much he's going to want you back.

Me: Please, now he's never going to do anything because he thinks we're in a relationship! If I was going to convert, I'd go to someone with a bigger ass than me!

Lav: I'm insulted!

We screamed for a couple more moments before she publicly declared our relationship dead. Good.

Much love,

Ginny

Journal,

Random moment.

I was walking up to the Burrow with Lav to have some tea with my Mum when suddenly a squirrel fell out of a tree. It scared the shite out of me. Lav just stared. Now usually they just get up and scamper up the tree again. But OH NO! Not this bloody squirrel. It started having some freaky epileptic seizure!

Lav: OH MY GOD!

Me: What's happening?

It was like flying off the ground and twisting at odd angles. Then suddenly…it stopped.

Lav: Is it dead?

Me: I dunno…

Lav: Go look…

Me: NO WAY!

Lav: GO!

Me: Fine!

I walked up to it. It looked dead. But then it suddenly started seizing again! Bloody hell! I jumped and screamed. I tripped over my own feet and fell on-into the arms of someone very male.

Harry: Woah Gin! You okay?

Me, terrified: Oh! Harry! It's the epileptic squirrel!

Harry: Ginny…Have you miss placed your medication again?

Me: Harry I'm serious! Look just there!

Harry looked at it, made a face., and levitated it to the dustbin. Thank God it's gone.

Love the girl that just met her first ever epileptic squirrel,

Ginny

* * *

P.S. The epileptic squirrel thing totally happened to my bio teacher. He showed us a slide show. It was creepy...

REVIEW!


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